Archive of entries posted on 17th September 2004

Frank Answers: God, Platinum, Running for Office, and C. Montgomery Kerry

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Templar writes:

How come typical religious people cannot defend their faith as well as William Lane Craig can? And what should be done to provide an incentive for them to learn?

For more information, see his past debates at major universities:

http://www.leaderu.com/offices/billcraig/menus/debates.html

Oh, don’t get me going on about religion. I’m an avowed atheist and…

Wait, I’m an avowed Catholic. Yeah, and I don’t like all this trying to argue whether God exists or not (He does). If God left things so that you could prove He exists, then how come he just doesn’t suddenly appear in the sky and yell, “Look at Me! I’m God! Booga booga booga!”?

I would if I were God (when not smiting non-stop). Just my two cents plus inflation.

SarahK from Wherever You Want Me To Live, Insert State Here, asks:

When should I expect the platinum?

Platinum is really expensive, so I’m going to wait until there is a huge drop in platinum prices and then, if I still like you, I’ll buy a ring.

Greg Gibas writes:

I think everyone on your site would like to know if you ever plan to run for office! So, will you? It doesn’t even have to be something big like Congress, it could be something more local like Alderman or something. I’d sure as hell like to watch your press conferences as a public official!

I don’t know anything about local offices or what the hell they do, so I don’t think I’ll run for one. I am old enough now to run for Congress, but somehow I bet statement on this site may be used against me. I think I’ll remain a private citizen griping about our do-nothing politician like everyone else (good ole do-nothing politicians).

Grant G writes:

I’m glad that Frank Answers is now open to all, because I have a burning issue of which I need your opinion on: Is it me, or is John Kerry a spitting image of Mr. Burns? Picture his face over Mr. Burns’ during the Simpsons episode of Blinkey, the 3-eyed fish, and you’ll see what I’m talking about.

He does look like a younger Mr. Burns now that you mentioned it. Did Burns become wealthy by marrying into money?

E-mail me your question about politics, science, math, theology, or whatever with the subject “Frank Answers”. Include the name you want to be referred by, your town, and URL if you have one.

I Done Made a Situation Comedy

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I just sent in my sitcom script for the contest on the Bravo network. It is the funniest thing ever, so, if there is any justice, I will win. If not, though, I’ll publish it on my blog.
Also, to Whom it may concern: Okay, we took three hurricanes now and have a fourth on the way; what did we do? Why are You doing this to us? Is there someone extra blasphemous here in Florida, because, if there is, just tell me who to smite and he will be smoten. It’s just I finally took my storm windows down yesterday, and it’s tiring.
You want me to burn a goat? I’ll burn a goat; I will. Whatever You want; just stop the hurricanes.
Thank You.

Filthy Lies: Jonah Goldberg Uses Kittens as Baseballs

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Ha! I’ll get Jonah Goldberg back for copying me with this Grade-A filthy lie:

Jonah Goldberg, the highly overpaid writer for National Review, is described to be a simpleton in real life – similar to Lenny from Of Mice and Men – and a possible danger to others. His most common violent behavior is to use kittens as baseballs, tossing them in the air and striking them with his bat. Whenever his coworkers see him in his baseball uniform carrying his bat, they’ll do their best to stop him, Goldberg protesting, “No! That Jo-nuh’s bat! You mean men stay away!”
Somehow, he always gets his bat back and inevitably finds a kitten. Kittens aren’t his only victims, though. Once when National Review writer Ramesh Ponnuru tried to stop Goldberg, he was struck in the head with Goldberg’s bat. Goldberg was then heard to say, “Heh heh. Ramesh make red stuff!”
When asked about fellow writer Jonah Goldberg, John Derbyshire said, “Goldberg is filth.”

And here is photoshopped proof of my lie showing Jonah just about to strike a kitten he tossed in the air.

“Me Jo-nuh! Me hit fuzzy baseball!”
There, the lie is complete. I’ll e-mail the esteemed Rich Lowry about it and then get Jonah Goldberg’s job for sure!

Proof of a Kerry Connection with the Forged Documents

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IMAO EXCLUSIVE! MUST CREDIT IMAO.US!
Look at this document I got in the mail (I won’t disclose the source to protect him):

This is a scan of the document (with my site stamped on the .jpeg). What I have in possession is not a copy. I had a handwriting expert verify that the signature is John Kerry’s.
This is quite damning as it proves that John Kerry had his hands in this forged document incident and colluded with CBS News. I hope this gets lots of press attention soon.
UPDATE: Some more experts have looked at the document, and there is a great amount of evidence saying that this is not in fact a modern computer generated document, but instead was made on a typewriter in the 70’s.
Once expert has pointed to the monospace typeset which is uncommon on modern word processors. Also, the corrections by pen, especially the cross-out of the spelling of the first spelling of “electro” is odd for a modern word processor since it’s much easier to use the backspace key to remove a misspelled word. Then there is the “st” on 21st which is not superscripted, something any modern word processor would do automatically.
Another expert has also pointed out there are indents for each letter, something you would not get by printing out the document but would get by using a 70’s era typewriter.
Finally, someone noted the oddness of the content. Kerry never mentions Bush by name, though he would be the obvious target. Also, instead of saying “computer” or “word processor,” he says “electro-mechanical device,” and instead of saying “fax,” he says “electrical conveyance” – as if he doesn’t know about the technology of this era and is just guessing. Then there is the references to flying cars, jet packs, mutants, and a nuclear apocalypse – things that don’t match up with present day but might be how someone from the 70’s would envision the 21st century.
But, I found an expert who said it is possible to print out a monospaced document with mistakes and correct them by pen. Also, superscript can be turned off. And, while uncommon when printing a document, it would be possible for someone to use some tool to put some indents for each letter. Why, I don’t know… but we’re talking about John Kerry.
As for the odd language and references, remember that John Kerry is haughty and French-looking and probably half-crazed by botched Botox injections. Thus, I don’t think we can conclude that this document was a forgery made in the 70’s and isn’t modern.
UPDATE2: I think it’s time for me to just admit I have been had. This is not a document proving a modern day conspiracy by John Kerry, but instead a forgery of a modern day document made in the 70’s. I called my father, and he remembers having a run in with a haughty, French-looking man while in Vietnam. Apparently that man then vowed to one day make a fool of his son. John Kerry must have typed up that document then.
I should have been more suspicious when the name on the envelope I got this document in was “Kohn Jerry.” Damn his oily hide! Well, I’ll get him… and his little hopes of being president too!

In My World: Chomps, the World’s Angriest Dog – Part III

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Part I
Part II

“I’m Ari Fleischer.”
The kid took another lick of his lollipop. “Who?”
“The White House Press Secretary.”
The kid stared at him a second. “You’re bald.”
Ari swatted the lollipop from the kid’s hand. “And you’re fat.”
The kid cried and ran away while Ari laughed. He then looked around the Guinness Book of World Records Museum. “Hmm, that is a lot written on that grain of rice.” He then spotted a sign saying “Animal Records.”
“Just what I’m looking for.”
He entered the section and read a sign. “Chim Chim, the World’s Evilest Monkey.” Ari looked at the monkey who stared back with its dark eyes, rubbing its hands together as it plotted dark things that no good soul could fathom. “Glad he’s in captivity,” Ari uttered to himself. He then went to the next sign.
“Chomps, the World’s Angriest Dog. Do not tap on glass. Do not stare dog in the eyes. Do not read the New York Times in front of him.” Ari looked at the dog who kept barking and trying to break through the Plexiglas. “That is one angry dog.”
“Do I recognize you from T.V.?” asked a woman behind Ari.
“Yes, I’m Ari Fleischer, the White House Press Secretary. Are you the curator?”
“Yes, I am. Do you need help with something?”
“Well, I’m leaving my job soon, and, before I go, I would really like to have Michael Moore mauled.”
Chomps started barking and charging the glass so fiercely that it caused Ari to jump back.
“Don’t say that name in front of him,” the curator said in a panic, “He once got loose and into a showing of Roger and Me and, well, it wasn’t pretty.”
Ari grinned widely. “He’ll be perfect. So, can I borrow him?”
“No, but you can take him,” the curator said, “We can’t afford insurance anymore with him around.”
“Fine with me,” Ari answered and looked to Chomps, “You’re going to like it in D.C. Plenty of people need a mauling there.”
Chomps considered Ari’s words, and then snarled.

“I’m going to use the defibrillator!” the veterinarian shouted.
Zatoichi’s cane blocked him. “No! It is for the angry dog to decide whether to leave this world or stay. The choice lies in him alone.”
“I didn’t go to vet school to take orders from some blind samurai!” the veterinarian shouted back.
Rumsfeld took hold of Chomps’s paw. “Come on, boy. There are too many unmauled hippies out there for you to leave now. I can strangle some of them, but I need you to rip apart the rest. Back in my day, dogs took hits from trucks all the time, and I know you’re even tougher than them. So come back to us, Chomps.”

Chomps stood in darkness. Before him appeared a bright white light. He barked at it. The light then began to soothe him, but he didn’t like being soothed so he barked even more.
Chomps then looked behind him to see a fiery pit of terror. Within it were hippies and Commies wailing in agony. Chomps growled, and his mouth watered at the thought of gnawing them and increasing their pain. Just as he was about to charge forward, he felt a presence behind him. From out of the light cam a kindly old man wearing a three piece suit. He didn’t particularly make Chomps angry, but he barked at him anyway.
“It’s okay, boy,” the man said, “You really want to go maul those hippies down there, don’t you?”
Chomps snarled in angry agreement.
“The thing is, you have all eternity to maul those deserving souls down there, but there are people on earth now deserving of your wrath you will go unharmed if you stay here. Do you understand?”
Chomps thought for a moment, and then remained silent. He looked between the light and the fire and saw a dimmer path out.
“That’s a good boy,” the man said and then patted Chomps on the head, “Now go maul a hippy for the Gipper!”

“Get your Japanese man away from me!” the veterinarian yelled to Bush as he approached Chomps with the defibrillator.
Suddenly the candle next to Chomps bed flared up, and the wall caught fire as well. Chomps then leapt up, grabbing a pad of the defibrillator and crushing.
“Chomps, you’re back!” Rumsfeld exclaimed in what for him was similar to glee.
“Angry dog has made the choice of life,” Ichi intoned.
Chomps then jumped from the table and plowed straight through the brick wall.
“Go get ’em, Chomps!” Rumsfeld yelled.
“I don’t care if he brought himself back to life,” the veterinarian said, “I still get paid.”

“Now some have questioned whether our new document was really made in the 70’s,” Dan Rather said, “because it has the image of a duck about to smash a computer with a mallet on it. But listen to this expert here.”
An expert appeared at Rather’s right. “I’d just like to say that it would be possible to draw a duck back in the 70’s,” the expert said and then walked off.
“And listen to this other expert about the signature verification,” Rather stated.
Another expert appeared at Rather’s left. “It is in fact a signature,” the expert said before leaving.
“So, now all of you pajama wearing partisans better stop questioning us,” Rather announced, “and… hey, that camera looks a bit like an angry dog… AHHHH!”

“It’s nice to relax here in one of wife’s houses where the press can’t talk to me and get me to contradict myself, isn’t it, Jeeves?” Kerry asked his butler.
“It certainly is, sir.”
There was a knock at the door.
“That’s not the press, is it?” Kerry asked, hiding behind his chair.
“No,” Kerry’s butler answered as he looked through the peephole, “It appears to be an angry rottweiler.”
“Oh. Then let him in.”
Kerry’s butler paused for a second. “Okay, sir.”

“We need to get rid of that wall so we can blow up the joooos!” Arafat yelled, “Maybe that U.N. peacekeeper running towards me can help.”
Chomps, wearing his blue helmet, burst through the doorway and grabbed Arafat by the leg. He then shook him in the air.
“It’s a targeted Israeli dog attack!” one of the Palestinian terrorists shouted. “We need to do something!”
“But if we touch him, we’ll be unclean!” said another.
They watched as Chomps kept shaking Arafat like a chew toy.
“It is kinda funny to watch.”

“We need to kill the Americans before they make democracy in Iraq!” yelled one terrorist, “Only crazy Islamism should rule!”
“Well, what do you think we should do, Mo-Chomps-ed?”
“Grrrowwwerr!” Mo-Chomps-ed answered.
“Hey,” said one terrorist, “There’s something strange about Mo-Chomps… AHHH!”

“We now open this meeting of MoveOn.org,” said the head filthy hippy, “We will never forget how Bush stole the election! We will never stop telling people how he is like Hitler! We will never forget how he got us into a wrong war with Iraq that is bad! We will never move on!”
The audience cheered.
“With us today is financier George Soros. Let’s give him a round of applause.”
Everyone clapped as George Soros sat quietly in his three-piece suit.
“The Bush suppression is getting worse!” shouted one hippy, “Just today, we were chased by a dog obviously working for Karl Rove. Luckily, he was hit by a truck.”
“Soros, do you think you can give us funding to help protect us against Rethuglican dogs?” asked another hippy.
Soros growled.
The hippies looked more carefully at him. “I don’t mean this as an insult, but Soros looks a lot like that dog who chased us.”
“An angry dog.”
A low growl came out of Soros.
“A very angry dog.”
The suit fell off and Chomps bared his teeth.
“This is so going to harsh my mellow.”

Chomps entered Rumsfeld’s house through the doggie door, yawning the world’s angriest yawn.
“There you are,” Rumsfeld exclaimed, “If you ever scare me again like you did today, I’ll strangle you to death.”
Chomps let out a lazy growl and then lay down next to Rumsfeld. Rumsfeld scratched behind Chomps’s ear as the dog went into the world’s angriest sleep knowing there would be much more to be angry about tomorrow.
THE END
Okay, so I didn’t kill him.
Still, buy the shirt.